


playing house with matches and tinder

by albatros



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 05:51:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2681510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/albatros/pseuds/albatros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Geoff’s back from war and he’s not himself. Michael doesn’t know how to make him okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	playing house with matches and tinder

**Author's Note:**

> Like a dream come true I’ll take you where I roam  
> Then follow you back home  
> Tell me you care  
> Tell me you care

He shakes the first night back and his eyes are cloudy. Michael makes Geoff's favorite meal but he's not sure Geoff notices. 

He doesn't talk much the first few months. He sits on the couch, he watches as the neighbors pass across the sidewalk in front of the house, and he reads from the reject pile of shitty dog-eared novels they’ve accumulated over the years. 

He never uses the phone or turns on the television. He won’t look at the news or current events. Occasionally, over dinner, Michael will turn on a romcom, something light and shallow. Not to satisfy either of their taste but because it's easy and maybe it will help Geoff get out of his head. 

Geoff started to drink and Michael starts talking enough for the both of them. 

At one point he'd tried shutting up for a while because it has got to be irritating hearing him blabber on about nothing. But when he finally spoke again Geoff recoiled and looked at him like he hadn't known he was there. Like it was painful to be reacquainted with his new reality. So Michael continued to talk. Michael continued to talk to keep Geoff grounded.

Gradually Michael would talk about the weather and Geoff would look outside like he cared. Or he'd say something that didn't make sense because he was running out of coherent fluff and Geoff would cock his chin like he noticed and it mattered. 

Michael schedules Geoff for therapy. Michael drops him off twice a week and waits for an invitation to sit in. 

At night Michael would Google PTSD and water down the bottles of alcohol that line their bar, hoping Geoff won’t notice that they aren’t going down no matter how much he drinks.

His beard is growing longer but the drinks never go down. Geoff won’t shave, ignoring the razors Michael leaves out for him, and his hair is getting thick and unruly. 

They don’t fuck. Not really, not much. Sometimes Geoff gets on top and pushes Michael down onto the pillows. He’s gentle and he looks at Michael critically. His arms are dark in the shadows of their room. His tattoos hold onto his skin in a way Michael wishes he could. Geoff runs his hands down Michael’s body and Michael’s abs jump at the contact. 

Michael tries to keep still, tries to be good and patient and shut the lizard brain up that tells him Geoff will be okay if he lets him. 

He tries to think about grandmas and kittens and the fact that his boyfriend’s been traumatized by a lost war. He reaches up, against the pressure of hands on his hipbones to cup Geoff’s cheeks. He plants a chaste kiss on Geoff’s lips and will either go to sleep or offer to use his mouth. 

-

"Geoff, I'm here. You're home and I love you and this is real."  
And Geoff’s face would break. Sweat falling from his temples as his smile turns pained. He’d laugh and it’d come out wrecked and wrong.   
"You always say that."  
And Michael would feel his stomach turn. How many times had Geoff dreamed of this? Of being home and waking up in a desert thousands of miles away with blood seeping through the sand and callouses on his hands from a weapon he didn’t agree with.   
How many times did he have to wake himself up from a dream?

-

Sometimes Geoff looks at him like he's not really there. 

He’ll look at Michael over a glass of whiskey (one of closer to a dozen than half) and tip it in toast with a tight unhappy smile before looking up to the ceiling and downing it. 

He's never violent. His moods never swing.   
He’s resigned, Michael thinks. He thinks he's never come back from war.


End file.
